


Headstrong

by cowardsandheroes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowardsandheroes/pseuds/cowardsandheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, Derek thought, if Stiles wouldn't get himself out of a dangerous situation, then Derek was going to teach him how to survive in one. Teach him how to defend himself and fight in a battle. And if that didn't work, then Derek would just have to continue to show up just in time and save the teen's life. He still owed Stiles for the pool, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headstrong

**Author's Note:**

> written for the creative bingo challenge at beacon_hills on lj; prompt was 'hurt'

Sharp pain shot through his arm, bones cracking with the force of being slammed too hard into the tree. The Alpha who had attacked him advanced slowly, leering as he stalked his prey. Stiles let out harsh gasps, struggling to breathe through the pain radiating through his now (probably) broken arm. Definitely broken, he thought bitterly when he turned to run and that small movement jarred his arm and reignited the pain shooting through the limb. If he didn't get out of there, though, a broken arm would be the least of his worries. "Freakin' superhuman strength," Stiles mumbled as he ran towards where he thought the road was. The Alpha was ambling along slowly behind him, and Stiles knew he was just playing with him, letting Stiles get far enough ahead that escape actually seemed possible before striking hard, moving quick and slamming into the human. It's how Stiles had broken his arm. This time he ran fast anyway. He didn't really think escape was possible but he wasn't about to just lie down and let himself be taken easily. He didn't want to die, he had a father to take care of—and crap, if his father was left alone he would go crazy—and no no no Stiles would not allow himself to think about that right now. He could make it to the road, find his abandoned jeep or flag down a passing car. He would survive and be home in time to make sure his father ate something healthy for dinner instead of greasy take out food or the donuts shoved in the back of the fridge.

He was thinking about throwing the donuts in the trash when he was struck from behind. It hurt, so badly. Worse than breaking his arm, a burning, searing pain engulfing his entire back and neck as claws gouged into the skin of his back, shredding through the layers of hoodie and t-shirt easily. "Ohmygod," he huffed out as he fell forward onto hands and knees, tears clouding his vision and breath hitching in his throat. He collapsed quickly, the impact of the fall reigniting the pain in his broken arm and letting his body know it couldn't be supported at the moment. Which wasn't that bad; the grass was cool against his flesh, hot and sweaty and god, the pain was horrible and lying down on his stomach just felt so nice. He was tired from running, from the pain in his arm and now his back.

"Petty human," the Alpha hissed, dragging his claws across Stile's back. Stiles gasped in pain, shuddering at the touch on already torn skin. The claws seared and burned at the torn flesh. Stiles hoped everything he'd read about deep gashes from a werewolf's claws being able to turn you was untrue because fuck. They had to be deep to do the trick—deep enough that whatever was in a werewolf to enable them to turn was actually able to enter the bloodstream—but judging by the pain and blood he could feel oozing from the wounds he was sure that the gashes on his back would be deep enough. If not that, then the damn Alpha pushing his claws into the cuts probably was. Stiles arched his back as the claws probed inside of him and Jesus Christ, this was not normal. How Stiles was still conscious, still alive, was beyond him. He could feel his vision swimming, unconsciousness pulling at the edges, but every time a claw even twitched the pain surged him back into reality.

The claws were torn out in an instant and Stiles screamed at the burning flare of fresh pain as the claws tugged at the frayed edges of his skin. Stiles let out a few shaky breaths before pushing himself up onto his knees. It hurt, a lot, but he needed to get out of there while the Alpha was distracted. He nearly collapsed again but there were hands on him suddenly, wrapping around his waist and tugging him up.

++

"Where's your jeep?"

Stiles let out a choked laugh. "I uh. Kind of lost it? Like, yeah. I was trying to get there when this thing tackled me out of nowhere. Had big claws. Really sharp too. Hurts like a bitch when they're inside of you."

"Stiles—"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I get it. I'm too tired to speak anyway."

"No. Talk. Do not fall asleep.You've lost too much blood and you're in shock. If you fall asleep you might not wake up again."

"No way," Stiles mumbled. "I wake up all the time when I'm asleep. Like, all the time. It's really crazy. I'm surprised I can still get any sleep at all sometimes."

"You can sleep all you want later, alright? Whatever you get at the hospital will probably knock you out for a week."

"Like my mom," Stiles mumbled, eyes fluttering closed slowly. He tried to stay awake like Derek had said but it was difficult. He was tired, exhausted really, and eventually he lost the battle against consciousness. He thought he heard Derek shouting his name but he could have just been imagining that.

When he awoke again everything around him was white and smelled clean. He would have been confused if he hadn't been familiar with the stark white pureness of the hospital by the time he was thirteen years old. Before that even; he was a clumsy child with ADD and had broken his first bone—a finger—at six and had needed eight stitches in his left leg when he was seven. That, among a multitude of other less severe injuries, and on top of the tests to figure out why he couldn't concentrate or sit still, had him more used to Beacon Hills Hospital than any kid his age—even Scott, which was weird because his mom worked there. Those visits were about him, though, so he was always more focused on what the doctors were doing to him rather than focusing on the walls of the room he was in, the hallways outside of the room. With his mom he would wander around aimlessly when he grew restless after sitting with his dad by her bedside for an hour—his dad at first seemed worried, had told Stiles they could go home but Stiles had refused. His dad deserved to see his mom; he didn't need to leave just because his kid didn't know how to stop moving. Scott was there a lot, anyway. He used to always go over to Stiles's house while his mom worked because his dad was no longer around to watch him and babysitters were expensive. That had lasted a year and then Stiles's mom got sick and Stiles and his dad and Scott were at the hospital more than they were at home. Stiles really didn't mind, though. The nurses would smile at him and ask him about school and they always kept a bowl of candy behind the counter for him—and Scott, when he was there as well.

++

"You're awake."

Stiles jerked his head towards the voice, surprised to find Derek standing in the doorway of his room. "Your dad was just here," he said. "But he got a call. Left about twenty minutes ago."

"Oh," Stiles replied. "How, uh..."

"You were attacked by a wild animal. Not very far from the truth, actually."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah." He stared at Derek, contemplating his next few words, then blurted it out. Derek wouldn't actually hurt him when he was already injured, would he? "Are you saying you're a wild animal, then?"

Derek frowned and stared at the teenager. "I meant...he attacked you. He had no reason to. Not all werewolves are like that. He was wild."

"Dude, calm down, I know," Stiles replied quickly. "But you do live in a run down house in the middle of the forest. Birds have better homes than you."

Derek shrugged, not bothering to reply to the comment about his house. The place suited him just fine, and when it didn't he had the abandoned train depot. It all worked just fine for him.

++

"Scott's in the waiting room. He was here with your father but left when his mom came on for her shift. He told me to come visit, and to tell him if you were awake."

Stiles nodded slowly. "Hey, so what happened?" He asked before Derek decided to go and fetch Scott. "I passed out and then I woke up here." He wanted to say he had heard Derek shouting at him, calling his name desperately, but he still wasn't sure whether or not that was real.

"I carried you back to the road. Your jeep was abandoned there. I'm guessing that's where you were caught?"

"Uhm. Yeah. There was a person lying in the middle of the road. I pulled over to help and was attacked by it. Him. It was a trap, I guess. I mean, I've heard of that trick before, ya know? Whoever is stupid enough to fall for it and pull over is the victim. Usually they want money or your car. I uh. Ran though. Took off into the woods. He could have taken my jeep...but uh. I guess he wanted to kill the witness, right?"

Derek nodded, taking in the story slowly. It wasn't the whole truth, not really, and Derek knew it without the confirmation or having been at the scene. The Alphas wouldn't have cared about money or the jeep; Stiles had obviously been targeted and had set the trap for him. That wasn't something Stiles could—or would—tell his father so the lie was made up. It was plausible enough and matched up with the evidence. The only thing that didn't fit were the claw marks in Stiles's back but Derek was sure Stiles covered for that as well. He was scarily good at lying, especially to his father.

"Hm, yeah," Stiles continued. "I said I ran around the woods and finally lost him only to be attacked from behind by something huge with claws. My dad just assumed it was a mountain lion again. The broken arm confused him but I just said I fell on it when I got tackled, and that thing started tearing at my back. It worked, obviously. And like you said, not that far from the truth."

Derek nodded, letting out a low hum as Stiles finished off his story. He was about to leave to find Scott—the kid would probably hit him for not going to him the minute Stiles had awoken—when Stiles's voice broke through the silence.

"My dad said you brought me here. Like, literally carried me into the hospital. Why? I mean, you should have just taken off."

Derek scoffed. "There's really no way your father could blame me for the attack. Deaton was called in and confirmed the marks on your back were made by a mountain lion. I may have asked for that favour, but he wasn't against helping—it ensured that the attack would be passed off as an animal attack. And you couldn't walk in here yourself: you were unconscious. Even though I _told you not to fall asleep_." Derek nearly growled the last part but Stiles just glared at him. It's not like he could have just said, 'Hey body, hold off on the passing out, okay?' Derek could be such a dick, sometimes.

"And I wasn't going to leave you bleeding out outside the door," Derek added, looking way too serious. "You might not have been found in time."

"Blah blah blah," Stiles muttered. "You can go get Scott now."

Derek nodded and pushed himself off of the door.

"Wait!" Stiles shouted, and Derek grimaced at the loudness. "What? I thought you wanted me to go get Scott. And did you really need to yell?"

Stiles shrugged. "Whatever. Help me sit up first? My one arm's pretty useless and if I sit up wrong my back'll kill me. Please?" He added in at the end, and Derek sighed. The please was unnecessary but he didn't need Stiles knowing that. If he gave in too quickly Stiles would definitely hold it against him later.

++

"Your dad believes it, though, right?" He asked as he helped the teen to sit up in bed. He'd raised the bed first, holding onto Stiles's good arm and helping him to situate himself on the bed as it rose. It was more difficult than it looked, and took a good five minutes to get Stiles into a comfortable position—although two minutes of that was spent waiting for the bed to rise up, and another minute was wasted trying to fix Stiles's pillow behind his back. Derek was pretty sure Stiles was aggravating him on purpose because the pillow wasn't even comfortable to begin with and there was no way pushing it into another spot behind him would help.

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled, pushing himself back against the bed and resting his head at the top of the pillow. "We're good."

Derek nodded, not wanting to voice his slight disbelief. It wasn't that he didn't believe Stiles, or thought that he'd lied about his father. It was that the Sheriff could have lied just as easily and pretended to believe the story just to please Stiles until they could sit and talk things through somewhere that wasn't his son's hospital room.

"I'll go get Scott, then," Derek replied. He turned to leave and was just outside the door when he heard Stiles mumble, "Thanks," under his breath. Derek knew he meant it for more than just helping him sit up and smiled grimly. Stiles was only thanking him because he'd been attacked for something he never should have gotten involved in. Except for Scott, Derek thought, because the minute Peter had bitten Scott Stiles had been involved. It was impossible for him not to, Derek realized, because he knew that Stiles blamed himself for Scott getting attacked, for them being out in the woods that night. Because of that, Stiles had rushed headlong into werewolves, had learned everything he could to help his friend. He was still just human, though. Getting attacked for sticking by your friends and helping them through a mess wasn't a reason for nearly dying. Stiles was too headstrong to care about that, though; he cared too much about protecting everyone around him that sometimes he forgot about protecting himself. He had saved Derek's life on more than one occasion and they just barely tolerated each other, and Scott was definitely high on Stiles's list of priorities. His father would always be first, though, Derek had no doubt about that. Not that Derek hated Stiles for it—having someone like Stiles around had definitely helped to keep the pack grounded, and it had certainly saved lives. Derek just hated that Stiles wound up injured because of his careless attitude and that need he had to protect others before himself. Stiles didn't seem to realize it, but sometimes he needed to help himself first, to understand that if he was going to get hurt—or worse—it was okay to run away. He wouldn't, though, and Derek laughed a bit at that. Stiles had always been stubborn, and probably would be for the rest of his life. He wouldn't just let others get hurt if there was something he could do to help. So, Derek thought, if Stiles wouldn't get himself out of a dangerous situation, then Derek was going to teach him how to survive in one. Teach him how to defend himself and fight in a battle. And if that didn't work, then Derek would just have to continue to show up just in time and save the teen's life. He still owed Stiles for the pool, after all.


End file.
